


Not so different

by littletechiebird



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletechiebird/pseuds/littletechiebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request: Write about someone coming to a fork in the road and write about how they choose which path to follow and any external forces that influence their choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not so different

He was lost.

Stuck.

He was bewildered in every sense of the word, while being completely forlorn. 

Where did he stand now?

Robin had been his title for years now. His purpose had been to help Bruce, keep him on track, be the “light” that Robin was supposed to be for Batman, and that was it.

That had been it. 

But now Bruce was gone, and everyone believed he was gone for good. Even when he’d told them, again and again - they had to believe him, even if he didn’t have proof yet… because he  _would_  - that Bruce was alive. He wasn’t gone. They just had to find him. They had to help him. But maybe that was too much to ask of them now. Maybe that was something that they couldn’t handle. He didn’t really understand how that could be, but he didn’t understand how they were saying no at all. He didn’t understand why it had been so easy for them to give up hope and begin the grieving process - which, in his opinion many of them were  _flying_  through.

Or maybe he had been doing it wrong.

Bruce wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be gone. And even if he was just going on a feeling for the moment, he knew he was right. He had listened to his gut so many times before and it had rarely let him down. This would not be a time that would give another strike in such a favor. 

They had lost people before, but it had never been for long. Bruce was the strongest one of them all, why did they think that he would be different?

Right now, though, Bruce was not the focus. Bruce just wasn’t here.

The focus was on the change that had been dropped upon him to level what remained of his world.

Robin.

He was Robin.

It was a persona that he had worked every day of his life to earn, and he worked his hardest. He did the best that he could, and then he found a way to do better. Robin provided an outlet for him, and a place to grow. He was given the opportunity for such new heights that had helped him realize who he was as a person. He had given up quite a bit, and he had sacrificed even more, but it had brought him to good things. He would never say that the loss of his parents was worth it, but that was something that he fought to make up for every day too. After all, he did carry that weight upon his own shoulders. He fought to make them proud, and bring his life to truly mean something. And he had done that, mostly, through Robin.

It hadn’t been that long ago that this drastic change was laid before him. Dick had revoked his title and relieved him of duty. With every other loss that year, and where he stood now with the complication of trying to bring Bruce back to them on top of everything else, he wasn’t sure how to cope. He wasn’t sure where his footing was now, for he was sure that it all had just dropped from beneath his feet, leaving him to plummet towards the ground.

This was a fall he had been trying, desperately, to avoid.

His leave from the cave had been swift - he couldn’t be there anymore. He couldn’t be where he didn’t belong and had no purpose. Because to him, having that title taken away meant taking everything away. No more Batcave, no more Wayne Manor, no more Dick, no more Alfred. And of course, without the resources, definitely no more Bruce.

It had been a couple weeks since that change, and he had sped off to his apartment. He did not answer any calls that came to his phone from the Titans. They were asking questions about the new Robin they were seeing, and where was he? He had no answers for them right now. It wasn’t something he could manage. There were other miscellaneous calls, but most of them were from Dick. He seemed apologetic, seemed to want to explain, wanted to know he was okay, but Tim erased every message. He did not listen to a word, but simply deleted the messages one by one before a full word was spoken - at the latest. 

He curled into himself tight on his bed, staring at the wall or the glow of his cellphone as it lit up with each call and text. He was wallowing in self pity, he knew that, and was fine with it. He had convinced himself that he was allowed such a thing with the kind of year he’d had. It would have continued that way, easily, if his phone had not frozen as a new text message from Dick displayed itself on the screen. 

_“Tim.. I’m sorry. I know I went about things all wrong, and I know I hurt you.. But you can’t shut everyone out! Do you even see what you’re doing to yourself?”_

That was where he stopped reading. He tore open the back of his phone and ripped out the battery, tossing the phone off of his bed onto the floor. That, like the rest of his apartment, had become a growing mess. It was unlike him. It was something that would have irritated and disgusted him on a normal basis. Yet here he was, living in this disorganization, filth, and laziness. Being this way - it wasn’t him. But then again, neither was Robin. Not anymore.

So who was he exactly?

He stewed on the text for a few more days, the lines coming back in his mind to haunt him time and time again. Dick was right.

He  _had_  been wrong. He had taken away something that was his, something that was important, and just passed it along to some brat who just showed up out of nowhere. Yes, that had hurt, and that was  _very wrong_. Dick had gotten to choose to give up his title. Jason, well, he hadn’t had a choice, and in all honesty, he knew that the way things had been ripped from him were unable to be compared, but at least it hadn’t been someone he had trusted who had taken it away. That was probably the only consolation.

So yes, he was bitter. That left him wondering just what made Dick think that he had the right to tell him what to do? He wasn’t shutting everyone out, he was taking a damned break. He was collecting himself. He was  _healing_.. or he was trying to. As for what he was supposedly “doing to himself”? He was doing just that. Taking a break, collecting himself, healing. It was nothing more. He didn’t get to do that. He didn’t get to act like Tim was the one who was in the wrong. After all, what did he expect him to do? Honestly.

Upon rolling over in bed, his face twisted into one of discomfort. He didn’t feel good. Or maybe it was that he didn’t feel quite right. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Again, his face twisted, but this time it was in a slight bit of irritation. His hair felt gross. Just about as much so as the rest of him. Forcing himself up, he trudged to the bathroom. Walking to the sink, he was readying to splash some water on his face, hoping it would help if only a bit. Maybe wake him up, cool him down, and add a bit of comfort. But as his hand went for the faucet, he looked to himself in the mirror.

Every moment about it seemed cliche, but it was genuine. Blue eyes stared back at him, but they were red and irritated, surrounded by circles under his eyes. His hair was stringy and messy, making him look like some pitiful teenager who was going through that stereotypical boy phase where they wanted to rebel against bathing. His cheeks were a bit sunken, and his pallor was more than poor. 

Long story short, he was nothing short of a mess.

It was within seconds that his face had reflected the disgust it had become contorted with, and Dick’s words echoed once more, this time with a meaning he had previously refused to allow.

_“Do you even see what you’re doing to yourself?”_  

No. He hadn’t.

The thoughts in his mind began to scream in regret at him. What  _was_  he doing? His mother and father would not be proud of him like this - especially not his father. Nor would Bruce. Kon would be flat out pissed off, and Bart would just stare at him as if his IQ had dropped, or maybe as if he wasn’t really himself.

Each of them would be justified and correct in their own right.

He couldn’t really help himself as he began to feel sick, after all it was for a variety of reasons. He was bothered by how he had been acting, by the time he had wasted, but he was still bothered by the predicament of where he was left now. Robin wasn’t him anymore. Right now he was just.. Tim. Timothy Drake-Wayne. He still had access to the benefits of the name Wayne, but that only took him so far. 

Where did he go from here? 

Did he return to civilian life? 

(That would surely be a trip, and possibly impossible.)

Did he return to the streets to continue as a vigilante hero?

If he chose that, what guise would he take? Robin was obviously not an option. That had to be behind him now, but what was left?

Turning on the faucet, he dipped his hands into the cool water and splashed it onto his face before his hands went to either side of the sink. He was on the outside now. He was on his own. He wondered, if this was at all how Jason felt - being on the outside of the Wayne family, looking in. He supposed he didn’t have to be, but right now he didn’t have much of a choice. He had to figure out his guise, he had to find Bruce, and he had to do that to prove to everyone that he wasn’t just going crazy with grief — again.

But that was just it.

Jason.

Jason had taken on a few different personas. But there had been one in particular that he had cast aside that came to his mind. 

It was still a kind of Robin - the title had come down to Red Robin, after all - and that in itself had been a symbol. It had been a choice for Jason where he could still be one of their Robins, but maintain the red hood persona. It had been a kind of compromise of who he was. A piece to remind him he was a part of the batfamily still, but a piece that was still all his own for the independence he so obviously craved.

That wasn’t too different for Tim, was it? 

The only problem was the status of the guise. It wasn’t exactly on everyone’s best list. He hadn’t been a saint while wearing it. So that name had some work ahead of it to be proven trustworthy. It would have to be a work-in-progress to retrieve the same status that Batman and Robin had created for themselves, as well as Nightwing. But that was something Dick had also worked for a bit himself.

Running his hand down his face, he looked at his reflection once more. Alright. The name and persona needed some work in the eyes of the people, but so would he. He had a lot of work of his own to do, and he needed to restore himself in the eyes of  _his_  people. And this, all of it, would help him accomplish his task of returning Bruce to all of them, and to the city of Gotham, itself.

Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad of a choice..

Robin.

Red Robin.

It wasn’t so different.

Neither was he.


End file.
